


Stop, Listen, Look

by pixie_rings



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: F/M, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Relationship seen from the outside, agony aunt Tooth, but she gets something better, poor Toothy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 18:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1520513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixie_rings/pseuds/pixie_rings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toothiana is a good listener. And sometimes what you want probably isn't what's best for you, or anyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop, Listen, Look

**Author's Note:**

> Look, a fanfic! My goodness, something must be wrong with me.

It's a busy night. She's glad she's out, because she's never been this excited (well, she probably _has_ , but that doesn't matter – it _feels_ like she's never been this excited). There are teeth to collect left, right and centre, her girls are doing so well as she barks out directions for them like a traffic cop on speed.

“Um, hey, Tooth.”

She freezes in mid-air and turns. There he is, looking as cute as ever with his sheepish pearly-white grin. She beams at him and darts over, hovering, trying not to fidget with her fingers and look silly. She's almost a thousand years old, she _shouldn't_ be acting like a blushing schoolgirl, no matter how pretty Jack and his teeth are.

“Oh, Jack! Hello!” she says, a giggle bubbling up before she can stop it. The girls all stop and swoon, and she shoos them away, back to work before giving the patient Jack a nervous laugh. “So, what can I do for you?” she asks. Jack rubs the back of his head, grinning sheepishly.

“I just wanted to talk, actually,” he says. “I hope I'm not being too intrusive... I know you're busy...”

The poor sweetheart. She shakes her head vehemently and invites him to sit on the tip of the roof. It offers a wonderful view of Florence, the Duomo and the Renaissance palaces, red roof tiles and the Ponte Vecchio over the river Arno. Very romantic. Also not one of Jack's usual haunts – not a snowy place – and Toothiana realises he must have been looking for her. Specifically. It sends a thrill of joy up Toothiana's spine, and she hopes Jack doesn't notice it. They can all sense their centres (Toothiana can tell when and what people are reminiscing, Sandy can see people's dreams, and Bunnymund... Oh, Bunnymund's got the _worst_ end of the stick, there), and Jack is no exception, but if he does, he doesn't show it. She arrays her train around herself daintily.

“Don't worry, I always have time for my friends,” she says, and it's sincere. She'd make time for all of them, not just Jack. She likes being able to help, and if it's Jack... well, that's just an extra incentive. “What do you want to talk about?”

Jack clears his throat, chuckles guiltily. “Um, well, you're the only one I can really talk to about this...” He fiddles with his staff, spins it through his fingers. He does that when he's nervous. She's studied all his mannerisms from beneath her eyelashes, she knows how he stands and slouches, how he tilts his head and all his different smiles. “I can't talk to Sandy even though I know he'd give all the best advice, I don't really understand all his -” Jack makes eloquent gestures that Toothiana understands are all about Sandy's symbols. “- yet. And, uh, _so_ not talking to North about this. _Ever_. And I can't talk to Bunny about it, because, well... It's _about_ Bunny.” He blows out a breath of cold air, jittery like a boy talking to his crush. The thought gives Toothiana another pleasant frisson.

She pouts internally. Ok, it's not about _her_ , but she can live with it. She's happy to help, and let things between the two of them develop on their own. She knows Jack and Bunny have history, and she knows they have a difficult relationship – they're so _different_ , after all! Outwardly, she smiles comfortingly.

“Have you argued again?” she asks gently. Jack bites his lip, it's so adorable.

“Sort of...?” He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up again. “I mean, we kinda snapped at each other, but it's not serious, you know?, it's just for fun, it's what we do, and it's not about that at all...” His cheeks suddenly become strewn with frost, like a field on a winter's morning. It sparkles in the moonlight, highlights the scraping of youthful roundness he'll never probably lose now, and it's so pretty she wants to _touch_ it. She's so distracted by it she doesn't stop to think about what it might mean.

“Go on,” she urges, a murmur.

He buries his frosted face in his hands. “IhaveacrushonBunny.”

Toothiana turns rigid. Her world comes crashing down around her non-external ears. This was _not_ what she had been expecting, never in a million years.

Jack and _Bunnymund_?

She ignores the sound of her heart shattering into pieces. She also ignores the little, bitchy voice in the back of her head that reminds her it told her so, back during the fight with Pitch, the way Jack's eyes would wander to that broad furry back... She smacks it away mentally, because Jack is pouring his heart out to her, and she should listen because she's his _friend_.

It's all she'll ever be, after all.

“I mean, I always knew I liked _guys_ , I've had crushes and stuff before...”

Well, there it is. She suddenly feels so stupid. She should have realised, it would have been in his memories (but she was not to look at them, she'd vowed not to, because they were an intimate, private thing and none of her business)...

“...And, well... he's a _giant bunny_. I mean, it's wrong, isn't it? It's sick... There's something wrong with me, there _has_ to be...”

That makes her angry enough that her wings buzz and she hovers a few furious inches off the roof.

“Jack Frost,” she says, getting right in his face to scold him, “don't ever let me hear you say that again! There's _nothing_ wrong with you, Jack! Bunny's brave and loyal and smart and kind! And never, _ever_ apologise for loving someone. Ever.” She reins in her anger and settles back down, surprised to realise that she truly believes what she just said. There are worse choices than E. Aster Bunnymund out there, and Jack... well, Jack needs some Hope in his life, she thinks, more than he needs Memories.

“Love is something so special,” she says, placing a tiny hand on his cold one where it rests on the boy's thigh. She'll never be able to hold his hand like a lover, only like a friend, and maybe... maybe it's not such a bad thing. Jack swallows, his hand twitching beneath hers. It turns and threads their fingers together, his skin is chilly. She squeezes gently. “Love is something special,” she repeats, “and we very rarely find it. Hang onto it, Jack. Hold it tight and never, ever think it's wrong.”

He looks at her. He's so vulnerable, she realises, so _young_ , he's been alone for _so_ long... he probably needs a mother. Well, she can do that. She can be a mother to him just like she is to her girls. She smiles at him, pats his cheek softly.

“Never apologise for what you feel,” she says. He nods, a brief jerk before he lowers his head, and she can see he's trying not to cry, trying to keep the tears in with rapid blinking and bitten lip. He lets her hand slip from his and she inspects her nails nonchalantly.

“So... when are you gonna tell him?” she asks, a sly tone to her voice, and his face turns to frost again. A winter sprite's blush, she thinks with an internal giggle.

“Oh, God, can we discuss that another time?” he begs. “I've only _just_ had the epiphany. It took me three days to realise it, I can't just _tell_ him, you know!” He practically pouts. “Not ready for it just yet,” he adds, a little more serious, less embarrassed.

“Well, don't take forever,” she says. “You might never get the chance to. And I'm speaking from experience.” Oh yes, experience. Of course, she'd probably have been shot down, but she should have said anyway. It doesn't matter now, what matters is making Jack happy. He gives her a grin, lopsided and puppy-like, and she smiles back.

“I gotta go,” he says, getting to his feet. She follows suit. “Thank you, Tooth. I appreciate you being there for me.” He hugs her. She resists the urge to cry and waves him away.

Her girls come zipping over, twittering eagerly.

_What did he say?_

_Are we going to have a daddy?_

_His teeth are so_ pretty _!_

“He's... you've got a brother, now,” she says, wrapping her arms around herself. The moon is round and full, like it always is to the eyes of the Guardians, and she gazes up at it, lost in its radiance. The girls make curious chirps, and one touches her nose comfortingly. She blinks back the tears, because really, they'll do each other good. Bunnymund needs to loosen up, and Jack needs to know there's something beyond his memories to look forward, a whole bright, wonderful future.

It doesn't make it hurt any less, there's nothing she can do about that, but they're her friends. She'll be there for them, every step of the way.

.

A few days later, she catches the scent of fresh grass and sweet hay, and she knows who's come a-knocking. She hovers down to the lower levels of Punjam Hy Loo, where the blossom trees bloom like pink and white lace and the natural rock is the apricot and peach of the sunset. She smiles.

“Hello, Bunny,” she says. He nods, curt, but that's all nerves. It's clear the Guardian of Hope is here for a little tête-à-tête, much like the Guardian of Fun three evenings prior. She's having a very eventful week. “Can I help?”

He fiddles with the straps of his braces. “Well, er... mind if we have a bit of chinwag?” he asks, offering a half-grin. His ears are back, his whiskers drooping a little. She smiles.

“By all means, come on up.”

There's a lift to her parlour, which she never uses except for Bunnymund. He could probably hop up there under his own steam, but it's not polite. She accompanies him too, because her mother valued good manners, and she is a queen, though she doesn't much act like one.

“Tea?” she asks.

“You know what I like,” Bunnymund says, sitting down at the low white table in the centre of the room. The walls are open, draped with translucent curtains, and they offer a spectacular view of the jungle valley and the mountains beyond. She chuckles and gets the chai tea out of the cupboard. She knows how they all take their tea, and keeps something in for each of them, even the jam for North.

“So,” she begins, once the tray is on the table and Bunnymund's done his little ritual of turning the cup thrice clockwise, “I take it this isn't a purely social visit, and you've come to visit Agony Aunt Tooth?” Her lips twitch.

“I can go if you want,” Bunnymund says, raising his paws in mock defence, and she narrows her eyes, seeing it for the escape plan it is.

“Nope, I want to hear _all about_ your woes,” she says, settling on her large, squishy cushion with a wriggle. “Fire away, Bunny!”

He groans, rubbing a paw down his face. “Well, er... s'about Frost.”

“Oh?” She feigns surprise, but in all honesty, she'd been expecting this. It amazing what you begin to see when your eyes have been opened. They had a meeting at North's the day before yesterday, the usual, and not only did she see _Jack's_ looks of obvious longing – really, the poor boy's terribly unsubtle – but she's seen _Bunnymund's_ too. The stares, the hastily torn-away gaze, the gentle shakes of the head, as if to get rid of inappropriate thoughts... Bunnymund's just as smitten as Jack is.

She can't let this stalemate go on forever.

“Yeah, uh... Well, y'see...”

For someone as wise and old as Bunnymund, he can be surprisingly young in his approach to things. She wants to grab his bandolier and yell “I KNOW YOU FANCY JACK!” in his face, but she daren't, no matter how funny it would be.

“I, er... oh, forget it,” he mumbles. He makes to get up, but she clears her throat with a queenly tone and eyes him. He sits back down sheepishly.

“Spit it out,” she orders, no room for token protest.

“I like him!” the Pooka blurts, squeezing his eyes shut before burying his face in his paws. “I like the bloody larrikin, and it's not good at all.”

“Why isn't it good?” she asks, bewildered, before remembering that Bunnymund wasn't privy to her and Jack's little conversation of three days ago. She bites her lip. “Why?”

“ _Look at me_ , Tooth!” Bunnymund says. He waves a paw at himself. “Bloody alien lagomorph, remember?” This is the first she's ever heard Bunnymund sound bitter about himself. He's always been equal parts proud and sad of being the last Pooka, but never _bitter_. This is confusing.

“I'm no good for him,” he mutters. Toothiana wants to smack him. “He's young and he's got the rest of his life to find some spirit who's right for him. What would he want with an old coney like me?” He looks away, closing his eyes in pain.

Ok, forget the smacking. Now she wants to hug him.

“Bunnymund,” she murmurs. He doesn't look up, but his ear twitches, she knows he's heard her. “Don't put yourself down like that. You don't fall in love with someone because of what they look like, you fall in love with someone because of who they are. You're brave and loyal and kind, why wouldn't Jack want to be with you?”

Bunnymund snorts. “Yeah, ok.” He huffs. “Might not even be into blokes.”

It's Toothiana's turn to snort. “You've _met_ the kid, right?” she says, feathery eyebrows raised. Bunnymund has to laugh at that, and laugh he does, a brief chortle of admission. “He'd care about you whatever skin you wore,” she adds, nodding. “You know I'm right.”

He turns back to her with a sigh. “Y'think?”

“I _know_ ,” she replies, sure she hasn't given anything away, because of course she _knows_ – Jack told her himself. But it's not her business to tell Bunnymund, it's Jack's secret to reveal, meddle though she wants to. Bunnymund seems content with the reply, though, a little bit brighter, and she supposes that sometimes even the Guardian of Hope needs help to see his own centre.

“S'just... well, I'm not exactly the best match for him, y'know?”

“Oh? And who would you prefer for him?” She shakes her head. “Don't put yourself down like that, you're a catch.”

He bursts out laughing. “Really, Tooth, I'm trying to be serious, here!”

“And I'm not?” she chuckles along with him, but then she notices he's eyeing her shrewdly.

“What about you, then?” he asks softly. She blinks, shrugs.

“His _teeth_ , Bunny. His _teeth_.” She sighs to lend credence to the lie. It seems to work, because he smiles at her and takes his leave.

Once she's alone again, she zooms back up to the Palace and giggles to herself, almost manically. Oh, those two. It had to be a story like this, didn't it, the silly boys! Baby Tooth wonders what she's giggling about, but Toothiana waves her away, still chuckling.

.

They're fighting bugbears. She _hates_ bugbears, they're mean and ugly and _very_ bad news for children, almost as much as Nightmares. She lunges forward with her scimitars, the weight in her hand a welcome familiarity, slashes through matted fur and knotty muscle, purplish, sickly blood spurting behind her. The creature she's dealing with roars in annoyance and she finishes it off with a slice to the throat as it leaps at her.

Not far from her, Jack uses his staff to block a vicious swipe of a nasty, clawed paw the size of a polar bear's. He's not so lucky the second time. He take a heavy cuff to the head, goes down like a rock to the pine-needle scattered ground.

Bunnymund's there before she can even think of helping, hunkered protectively over the unconscious winter sprite, snarling like a predator at the bugbear in front of him, ears flat against his skull. His wooden dagger is slick with bugbear blood, there's a fire in his eyes she would never want to be on the receiving end of. The bugbear hesitates, and rightly so.

North takes care of Jack's attacker, a quick slash of his sabres and the beast hits the ground with a thud.

“New rug, there,” he says, smirking, drumming his fingers upon the guard of one of his sabres before turning to look at Jack.

Bunnymund raises him up, cradling him in his arms, murmuring to him worriedly. It's in a language Toothiana can't understand, something beautiful, like song and laughter, and it's probably Pookan. He presses a hand to the boy's cheek, rubs the pad of his thumb over it, and there's such anxiousness and affection in his face that she feels a little humbled. What Bunnymund feels is so much more powerful than her own silly little crush.

“Is he ok?” she asks softly, landing and kneeling beside them, voicing what's on everyone's minds.

Jack suddenly groans, eyebrows knitting together into a deep, dark frown, and everyone breathes a sigh of relief. Bunnymund looks like spring has come early and, without thinking, pulls Jack into a tight embrace.

“Drongo,” he mutters. Jack's rigid in his arms, his face painted with a layer of frost. Hesitantly he reaches up and wraps his arms around Bunnymund, reciprocates the embrace, and it's... _sweet_. It really is. It feels right to see them like that and if she feels a pang of jealousy, well, that's only natural, she'll be feeling it for a while, but there's no resentment.

“Sorry,” Jack mumbles back, grinning sheepishly, and they pull back in unison, eyes locked, away in their own little world of sudden realisation.

“Am I missing something, here?” North asks, charging through the atmosphere like an ice-breaker. “Why is Bunny hugging Jack?”

Bunnymund seems to realise he's doing it and his ears tilt back, all nerves now. He lowers his gaze, swallows, but before he can let go and babble some excuse, Toothiana intervenes.

“Come on, you two, get over yourselves!” she scolds cheerfully. “Go the whole nine yards!”

Jack glances at her, cheeks still peppered with sparkling hoarfrost, and grins. “Hear that, Cottontail? The peanut gallery wants the good part!”

He presses his lips to Bunnymund's in an odd kiss. The Pooka blinks, but pushes back, and it's not the best kiss she's ever seen – their mouths don't quite fit, for one thing, not like hers and Jack's would, and that fur must make for a strange sensation – but it's sincere, and that counts for more than technique ever could.

North makes a spluttering noise of complete confusion. Sandy, however, is beaming in a benign, avuncular way, and she leaves the two new lovers to head to his side.

“You _knew_ , didn't you,” she says quietly. Sandy makes a show of coughing silently and feigning an innocent look, but she merely giggles. “Come on, that won't work on me.” She glances over to where North is interrogating the other two, makes sure she and Sandy won't be overheard (or overseen, in Sandy's case).

He flies through a few symbols: a profile of Jack with a thought bubble above it, a profile of Bunnymund next to Jack's, their thought bubbles joining together into a heart. They were dreaming about each other. Of course Sandy would see that, he's the Guardian of Dreams, he'll have seen _everything_... She winces when she notices the look he's giving her.

“I know,” she whispers. “But _look_ at them.” She waves a hand over to where the two are now standing and arguing good-naturedly with North. Jack leans heavily into Bunnymund's side, still a little woozy, probably, and the Pooka's arm is around the boy's shoulders, protective and comforting. “How could I come between that?”

Sandy's symbols transform, become a heart and a tiny figure of Toothiana looking all around. She finally finds a heart and cradles it against her minuscule dreamsand chest. Toothiana gives him a sad smile.

“I know, eventually,” she says. He floats up and takes her hand, pats it warmly. Then he turns back to the others and creates dreamsand confetti, a party hat and trumpet. Then a clock, which he points at vehemently.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, about time,” Bunnymund grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“I am still not understanding this,” North mutters, scratching his head. “Not completely.”

“It doesn't need to be understood, North, just respected,” Toothiana says philosophically. She hugs both of them together, beaming at them. “You two are _adorable_!” she chirps, flailing slightly from her enthusiasm, and it's not fake at all.

North says something grumpy in Russian, and everyone ignores him.

.

It's been three weeks.

She'd cried a little. She figured she could allow herself that, at least. There's nothing shameful in crying over a crush, nothing at all, and she's not going to apologise for it. She's lost Jack – not that she ever could have had him, of course, but it's a subconscious thing, she can't help thinking it – and she has the right to cry over that. Who's going to complain, anyway? Her girls won't say anything, and no one else will ever know.

She was surprised to realise she didn't need to cry as much as she thought she would.

She hasn't seen Jack or Bunnymund for a while, but that doesn't mean anything. Their monthly meeting isn't for another week, and they're probably doing all the soppy things lovers do together, like long walks in the moonlight and gazing into each other's eyes... although that seems pretty ludicrous for the two of them. Scratch that, they're probably sniping at each other and playing absurd games of chase, their relationship as unfathomable and wholly _them_ as their courtship. Also, probably getting all _snugglekins_ with each other. The thought makes her giggle when it passes through her mind.

It's a busy Thursday night in Buenos Aires, and she's on air traffic control in the field again (she loves it, _this_ is where she belongs, seeing the kids, collecting some teeth, overseeing the good work being done) when a throat clears itself behind her with a rumble like thunder in the distance. She turns, baffled, and smiles when she sees North. He standing there, with his hands behind his back, doing all he can to not look at her. How strange.

“Hi!” she says, darting up to him. “What's up?”

He takes a deep breath, and perhaps it's the poor quality of the streetlights here, or her own fanciful imagination, but she could almost swear he's _blushing_.

“I am here to ask.. ask special thing of you.” He keeps his eyes resolutely on the ground as he pulls out... a bunch of flowers.

Well, not just a bunch of flowers, but a very pretty bouquet, that's obviously been thought through. She doesn't recognise half of the flowers, but then again, flowers aren't really her thing (they're Bunnymund's thing, Bunnymund's good with flowers, he knows _all_ their meanings). She takes it, sniffs at it. It smells beautiful.

“So what's all this about?” she asks, playing with a soft petal delicately. North shuffles his feet. It's pretty cute, really.

“Jack is saying... Jack is saying they are not calling it 'stepping out' anymore, they are calling it _dating_... He says to me, 'go, ask Tooth out, take her to movie and make her nice meal'. So I am here to do that.” He takes a deep breath and finally raises his head. “Will you go on date with me, Toothiana?”

She blinks. She bites her lip. He looks so hopeful and sincere... it's the same look Jack had, the same look Bunnymund had. The look of someone pouring their heart out, being so completely open about something so dear to them... She kicks herself mentally. How could she have been so blind?

“Of course,” she replies. She flutters forward and kisses him on the cheek. “I'd love to.”

His smile could light up the darkest of places, his eyes twinkle happily, and maybe, just maybe, something better comes along after something sad.


End file.
